


teer

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Jodhaa Akbar canon fics [17]
Category: Jodhaa-Akbar (2008)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dyslexia, Gen, Pre-Canon, Siblings, non-fatal assassination attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 18:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Jalal struggles to learn his letters, struggles to even identify one from another, and it seems the least Bakshi can do is to pretend to fall behind, so as not to embarrass him. Her deception lasts until Adham pulls her aside.A look at Jalal, Bakshi, and Adham while growing up.teer (Urdu): arrow





	teer

**Author's Note:**

> Jalal spent much of his childhood in Kabul at his uncle’s palace, while his parents were busy ruling. Jalal, Bakshi, and Adham are about five, seven, and sixteen here.

Jalal struggles to learn his letters, struggles to even identify one from another, and it seems the least Bakshi can do is to pretend to fall behind, so as not to embarrass him. Her deception lasts until Adham pulls her aside and orders her not to do it anymore, as it won’t be helpful to Jalal in the long run.

Bakshi glares at him; he may be more than a decade older than her and Jalal, but he is only their foster brother, gawky and gangly, with the horrible beginnings of a mustache scrawled across his upper lip. Who does he think he is to command her, a princess of the House of Timur?

Adham crosses his arms. “Jalal hates it when people don’t put up a fair fight against him in the courtyard or in the arena. I’ve seen it myself, and the schoolroom is no different. If he sees that even you have difficulty, he won’t have any reason to try.”

He has more reason than Bakshi cares to admit; she may be Jalal’s sibling in blood while Adham is his sibling only in milk, but Adham understands the patterns of a man’s heart far better than Bakshi ever could, and it is that, along with the severity in his voice that reminds her of his mother, that fades her indignation into muted acknowledgement.

She abandons the pretense of being slow, but the words continue to writhe like snakes before Jalal’s eyes, and it frustrates him to no end. The distance between their residence in Kabul and their royal parents in Persia makes him even more determined to mold himself into the perfect Emperor, and how can an illiterate ever hope to rule anything?

Their foster nurses drag them out to the front pavillion one chilly autumn day, hoping to drag a smile out of the young Crown Prince. Bakshi does not see the assassin, but she hears the screams and turns in time to see Maham Anga slumped over Jalal, with what looks to be a twig embedded in her chest.

Bakshi’s own nurse gathers her into her arms, and guards swarm her vision, and it is only when she sees the blood, dripping from Maham Anga’s chest, that she belatedly realizes that it is an arrow, and that’s when she screams.

* * *

An assassin was lurking in the pavillion, the pavillion where she and Jalal and her friends play in every week. An assassin hid there and fired an arrow meant for her brother, an arrow that did hit his foster nurse, an arrow that could have hit Bakshi. She dissolves into hysterics, and the physician must be summoned from Maham Anga’s beside to prescribe her a calming draught.

It grants her peace until evening, when she wakes up groggy but subdued. She visits Maham Anga first, who is resting with bandages across her chest but otherwise in good spirits. “Go check on Jalal for me,” she whispers.

Jalal is shut up in his bedchambers, cocooned in blankets and bed nettings. The maid who had been posted at his side looks up gratefully to see the Princess Bakshi Banu, as though his sister will have better luck in prodding him out of his funk.

Bakshi sits on the edge of the bed, brushing a hand through Jalal’s hair and murmuring over and over how glad she is that he is safe, and that Allah has been protecting them all. He gives no response, but he shifts closer to her on the bed and curls around her, and they remain like that until Adham Khan’s presence at the door is announced. His face is white and drawn, but he takes his place at Jalal’s other side.

“If you’ve come to drag me out of bed,” Jalal finally speaks, raspy and muffled, “I am not leaving.”

“And you’re not going to,” Adham says, with quiet but firm authority. “You’ll stay here for the rest of the day, and we’ll have your favorite plates brought up, and a hot bath will be drawn for you, and if Mother is strong enough, she’ll sleep in here tonight. There will be guards outside the door, and if you want, Bakshi and I can also stay here tonight. You’re safe, and Mother will live, and we’ll all be together tonight. And tomorrow, when you wake up, you’ll get out of bed and comb your hair and get dressed, because that’s what a Crown Prince does.”

“I don’t _want_ to be a Crown Prince anymore!” Jalal wails, and despite it, Bakshi chuckles quietly.

“If not you, then who else? We’ve no other brothers to speak of. Except --” she glances at Adham, half-embarrassed, half-mocking “ -- those of milk.”

Something twitches in Adham’s face, but he presses on, “Well, whether you like it or not, you’re the heir-apparent. People see the power we wield, and they will want to take it for themselves. But you fight back, and return twice as strong, so that they regret having ever dared to try you.”

“What power do I have?” Jalal flings off the blankets now, revealing his blotchy, tear-stained face. “I don’t know how to read. Mother and Father -- my _real_ mother and father -- don’t ever come to see me. I can’t even avoid being shot by an arrow. How can I even deserve be Crown Prince? Why should I even pretend to be one anymore?”

Before such a bitter tirade, Bakshi is helpless, and she struggles to figure out how to respond. Adham beats her to it, however. “ _My_ mother thought you worthy of being the Crown Prince. She trusted in you enough to take that arrow for you.”

His voice is lowered, now, but his words are no less intense and impactful for it. “Your Badi Ami believes in you, even if you don’t, and I know you want to honor that. My mother lies bedridden because she loved you enough to take that arrow on her chest, and I won’t see her sacrifice wasted on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

 _Enough!_ Bakshi wants to tell him, but it seems Adham’s words have done the trick, because Jalal finally swings his legs out of bed and traipses over to begin bathing and eating and trying to pretend that his world hasn’t been lanced. She sighs in silent relief, and much as she hates to be in debt to Jalal’s foster brother, Bakshi catches his eye and gives him a nod. He offers an exhausted half-smile in return, before clapping Jalal around the shoulders and offering him his favorite _khichra._


End file.
